“It suits me to.”
“Why?”
He slowed at that and cast a piercing look that not even the dark could conceal. “Why are you dressed as a peasant?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know that I’m a queen.”
“Why?”
“Because my life would be in danger if…” Adara frowned as she followed his line of thinking. “You are afraid for your safety?”
“Nay. Never. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less for my safety. I dress as I do so that most will ask me no questions and leave me in peace.”
“Tell me, my lord. Does that include meddlesome wives who should have stayed home?”
She saw the slightest lifting of the corners of his lips. “You keep that up, Christian, and you might actually manage a smile.”
His face turned sober again. “There is little about this situation that I find amusing, Adara.”
“Are you so certain, my lord prince? I think being tossed naked from a window is rather amusing, myself. Or at least I am rather sure I will once the embarrassment of it wears thin.”
She had a distinct impression that he was forcing himself not to smile at that.
“How can you find humor in what has befallen you?”
She shrugged. “There is humor to be had most places. My father always said that it is a wise man indeed who can laugh at himself.”
“Only a fool laughs at himself and ’tis a greater one who allows others to do so.”
“Pardon?” Lutian chimed in.
Adara motioned him to silence. “Laughter is the music of the angels. It clears the soul of its melancholy and adds the beauty to our lives. ’Tis why I value Lutian so. Without laughter and humor, we are all barren inside.”
“Then I am barren. Now will you leave me in peace?”
Adara sighed at the somberness of the man her parents had chosen as her husband. Poor Christian, to have no mirth.
She opened her mouth to speak, only to have him hold his hand up to shush her.
Reining his horse, he cocked his head as if listening to the woods around them.
“Is something amiss?” she whispered.
“Aye. We are being followed.”
Four
Adara’s heart returned to its frantic beating while she scanned the dark forest around them. “Where?”
He put his finger to his lips to silence her as he listened. After a minute, he moved his horse closer to hers so that he could speak in a low tone. Lutian rode to her side so that he could hear as well.
“Withernsea Abbey is only about a league from here. If we are attacked before we reach it, continue to ride due north and at full speed. Do not look back. Do not slow until you reach the abbey’s gates. Ride to the backside of the abbey, where Brother Thomas should be manning the small alm’s door. Tell him Christian of Acre sent you for sanctuary. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now gallop.”
Adara squeezed the horse’s ribs with her knees. The horse sped up. She thought at first that all would be well until she heard an inhuman cry. It was the call of the Sesari, a special, elite group of the Elgederion army. Lightning fast, they were the bodyguards of the king.
She slowed her horse. “They’re your men,” she told Christian.
“What?”
“I know that sound. They are the king’s bodyguards. They’re here to protect—”
Before she could finish the word, the Sesari attacked.
“Go!” Christian snapped, slapping his reins against her horse’s flanks.
She reined her horse while he unsheathed his sword. “They can’t hurt you. It is forbidden.”
An arrow went whizzing between them.
Christian gave her a fierce glare. “Apparently they don’t share your belief, Adara. Now go, so that I can fight without fear of your being harmed.” He looked to Lutian. “Get her to safety.”
She didn’t want to leave him to this, but he was right. She wasn’t a warrior and neither was Lutian. They would only compromise Christian’s ability to defeat their attackers.
“Ecri denara,” she said, wishing him luck in his native language. She caught a glimpse of blue in the woods an instant before she set her heels into her horse and sped north with Lutian following her.
Christian took a deep breath in relief that she’d listened to him. Now he just had to hope that he could hold off the attackers and give Adara and Lutian time to reach their destination.
His sword gripped tightly in his hand, Christian wheeled his horse about and watched as one by one six men dressed in dark blue robes broke through the forest into the small clearing.
A clear, masculine voice rang out speaking Elgederion as they spotted him. “The regent wants the imposter dead. Paradise and riches to the one who takes the imposter’s life.”
Christian laughed at that. Poor men. They had no idea who or what they were dealing with. “Paradise or hell will be determined by the Lord our God,” he said to them in Elgederion. “Not your ruler. Anyone who wants his judgment this night, step forward and I’ll be more than happy to speed you on your way.”
His horse reared as it sensed the battle to come. Christian brought the beast back under control, then spurred it toward those who would kill him.
And as he neared them, he realized they were only the forefront of more of their kind.
Adara thought her heart might fair explode before she finally saw the walls of the old abbey before her. The light of the half moon above shone brightly against the stark stone. As per Christian’s words, she rode to the back and found the small door he’d described.
She dismounted quickly and ran to it. She struck the old bluish gray wood hard, hoping the monks weren’t in prayer.
A small window opened on the door. “We’ve no more alms left for the poor,” the old monk said. “Come back tomorrow, child.” With two fingers held upright, he made the sign of the cross on the small opening. “Pax vobiscum.”
“Brother Thomas?” she asked before he could close the window all the way.
He opened it wider so that he could see her better. “Aye?”
She dropped her cowl and stood on her tiptoes so that he would know she posed no threat. “I was sent here by Christian of Acre. He told me to beg sanctuary from you.”
The old man’s face became a mask of horror. He slammed shut the window, then immediately opened the door. “Come in, child. Is Christian…”
She could see he didn’t even want to ask lest the news be painful. “I know not. We were on our way here when we were attacked. He sent us”—she indicated herself and Lutian—“on ahead while he faced those who were after us.”
“God be with him,” he whispered as he crossed himself, then waited for them to enter the monastery’s confines before he locked the door behind them.
Adara’s breath caught as she saw a small mark on the monk’s hand. Before she could think better of it, she captured his hand and held it under the rushlight to see the same mark there that Christian bore on his own hand.
“This sign…what is it?”
The pallor on his face increased.
“Please, Brother. Christian bears it as well and refuses to speak of it to me.”
“And who are you?”
“His wife. Adara.”
Tears came to the man’s brown eyes as he looked at her as if she were a ghost. He embraced her like a sister and pounded her hard on the back.
“Adara,” he whispered as he continued to hug her. “It does this old heart good to see that Christian has finally found some comfort in this world. God knows, he deserves it.”
Lutian opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced when Adara flung her hand out to his stomach in warning. He quickly snapped his mouth closed, glared at her, and rubbed the area she’d struck.
Sniffing, the old monk stepped back and smiled at her. “You are beautiful, child.”
“Thank you, Brother. But the sign?” she asked. “I need to und
erstand why it pains my husband when I ask after it.”
By his expression she could tell the brand bothered him as well. “It was the mark of our prison and has since become the mark of our Brotherhood.”
“Mark of your prison?” Lutian asked.
“Aye. After we were individually captured and thrown into the bowels of the prisons, the heathens branded it into us as a way to remind us of our lowly, beaten status.” He turned to face Adara. “Thanks to men such as your husband, it was turned into a mark to fortify and unite us.”
That gave her hope that the monks would have at least a warrior or two in their ranks. “Is there anyone here we can send to help Christian now?”
His gaze saddened. “I wish it were so, my lady. But alas there are no knights here, only champions of God. But I know Christian well. He will prevail.”
Adara prayed for that to be true, but she knew the Sesari well and they weren’t easily defeated by anyone. She considered going back for him herself, but the last thing Christian needed was for her to do something stupid.
“He will be fine, my queen,” Lutian said to her.
Thomas’s eyes widened. “Queen?”
She could feel her face flush. That had been something she’d rather the monk not know about her. “Aye, Brother. I am a queen.”
“Then it is true that Christian is a prince?”
“Aye.”
He shook his head as he took the rushlight and led them toward a small group of buildings in the center of the yard. “Well, I’ll be. It is nice to know he has finally found his place in the world. Many are the times that I never thought he’d find peace or home.”
She didn’t have the heart to correct the man and tell him that Christian had no desire at all to be her husband or to return to his home. He denied both with equal fervor.
“You were with Christian while he was in Outremer?” she asked.
Thomas nodded as he continued to lead them across the well-tended yard. “I was already a captive when they took him. In those days, I was a merchant who had gone to see Jerusalem on pilgrimage and I am sad to say that I had lost all faith in God after they captured me. It is hard to maintain your faith when your prayers go unanswered and you live among constant suffering and death for no reason.
“Then they brought in this man-child who stood strong against our Saracen tormentors. He was like a lion possessed of God’s faith and love. Whenever we wanted to die, it was Christian’s words of comfort and hope that kept us alive. His faith that saw us all through.”
His old eyes were haunted. “Indeed, he was the only one we had to confess to and to perform Last Rites for those of us who didn’t survive. Most of the boys his age ran from the constant death around us, but Christian didn’t. He wouldn’t allow any to burn for their faith. No matter the disease or injury, he spoke the final words to save their souls. God bless his kindness and mettle.”
A lump settled in her throat as she thought about how horrible it must have been for him. She couldn’t imagine a higher responsibility. Not even one as ruler.
“Is that why they called him the Abbot?”
“Aye, and I have since taken my vows so that I may serve God more truly, since it was He who sent Christian to us to give us the strength to survive our nightmare.”
“And there is truly no one we can send to help him now in his hour of need?” she asked again.
“Nay, child. But fear not. Christian is like no other in battle.”
Christian sank his sword into the body of his latest attacker. He’d held his own, but the tide was swiftly turning against him. Several of the enemy had already wounded him and his sword grew heavier by the heartbeat.
As he grew more tired, they grew in number.
Just how many of them could there be?
Suddenly a blinding light streaked through the darkness. It landed near him, then exploded into fragments that flew against the men attacking him. They screamed as the fire ran up their bodies and consumed them.
More fire rained down. Christian stumbled back, away from the men and the source of their anguish.
As if from an unholy source, the sound of hooves came near. Christian barely had time to move before the horse and rider were upon him.
“Take my hand, Abbot.”
He looked up into the face of Phantom.
Christian took his arm an instant before Phantom pulled him up behind him. Phantom kicked his horse into a run while Christian held on to the saddle.
“Where’s your horse?” Phantom asked him.
“I know not. It was a farmer’s horse. The fighting scared it.”
Phantom laughed darkly. “Threw you, did he?”
“Aye.”
Phantom shook his head as he veered his horse into the thickest part of the forest in order to escape any who might be pursuing them.
Christian took slow, even breaths as the pain of his injuries seeped through him. It was always like this. During battle, the mind was occupied by survival. Pain had no place in a man’s thoughts. But once safety was reached…
The body’s agony made itself plainly known. And his was singing royally this night.
Christian glanced behind them to see if they were being followed, but if they were, the darkness concealed it. “We need to head toward With—”
“I know. I followed your queen there earlier to make sure she arrived safely before I doubled back to help you.”
That news surprised him. “I thought you were headed back to Paris.”
“I lied.”
Christian frowned at Phantom’s bland tone. “So you followed us, then?”
“Aye. I had a feeling the one I killed wasn’t alone.”
“You could have just told me and traveled with us.”
Phantom scoffed at that. “Not my way.”
Christian understood that. Phantom had always been a solitary creature. Even more so than Christian himself was. In prison, the young man had always been extremely reserved and sullen. He’d only grudgingly interacted with Christian and the other prisoners, and even then he’d been suspicious and cautious.
In many ways, he reminded Christian of a dog that had been beaten one time too many and was hesitant to let anyone else close enough to him for fear of being hurt again. Not to mention, the man carried a severe scar across his throat that he now kept concealed. In prison, there had been no way to hide the mark, which looked as if someone had once tried to cut Phantom’s head off.
So Christian had always done his best to give Phantom the isolation the man seemed to crave.
The two of them remained silent the rest of the way to the abbey. Christian dismounted first, then stumbled as the pain spread through him.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Phantom snarled as he joined him on the ground. “How wounded are you?”
Christian stiffened in indignation. “I was significantly outnumbered.”
Phantom made a rude noise before he seized his arm and draped it over his shoulders.
Christian shoved him away. “I can walk on my own.”
“Not bloodly likely. By the looks of you, I’m amazed you can even stand.”
It was difficult. Even so, Christian started for the small alm’s door. After he stumbled again, Phantom grabbed him and offered him his shoulder.
“Damn your pride, Christian. You’re about to pass out. No one, least of all me, will think less of you for accepting aid.”
Christian reluctantly leaned against Phantom and allowed himself to be helped to the door. He couldn’t tell who answered Phantom’s knock. By the time they had the door opened, everything went black.
Phantom caught Christian against him as he passed out. Groaning, he hefted him up into his arms. “You would have to be wearing armor, you bastard, wouldn’t you?” he growled.
The priest gave him a harsh stare.
Curling his lip, Phantom glared back. He couldn’t care less what the monk thought of him. For that matter, he couldn’t care less what anyone thought of him
.
“Phantom?”
He turned his head at the familiar voice that approached them from the north. “Thomas?”
“Aye,” the old man said as he came forward wearing the brown homespun and tonsure of a monk. “I was hoping when I heard the bell that it was Christian. Bring him this way. I already have quarter for him.”
Grateful, Phantom followed him to the monk’s dormitory. The building was clean but sparse, he noticed, as they walked down the hallway toward a small room.
Phantom grimaced at the plain furnishings that were designed for practicality and not comfort. But at least he could finally put down the overgrown knight who weighed as much as his horse.
Thomas pulled back the rough cover on the inhospitable-looking cot. Phantom laid Christian down carefully before he pulled the black robe off him to expose the suit of chain mail beneath. He quickly removed the sword and sheath.
“He’s been badly injured,” he told Thomas. “Is there a monk here who can tend him?”
“Aye. Brother Bernard. I’ll get him and let the queen know that Christian has made it.”
Phantom nodded while he started unlacing the mail pieces. He could see the bright red stains where the blood was seeping between the links, not to mention several gashes in the metal where weapons had cut through it. There were quite a few injuries, and in truth he was amazed Christian had gone so long before he passed out.
Then again, pain wasn’t anything new to either of them.
He pulled the mail hauberk and quilted aketon off, then paused as he saw the old scars that marked Christian’s right shoulder. Unbidden, his memories surged.
Instead of the monastery where they were currently, he saw the old mold-covered prison walls. Smelled the stench of decay and death. Heard the echoing screams of pain and whispered prayers of the hopeless and dying. He could even feel again the heat of the fever that had ravished his body.
“Here, Phantom,” the boy Christian had said as he offered him a cup of rare bitter water to drink.
The sight of it had terrified him. To be caught with unrationed water meant a severe beating, which was what had given Phantom his current fever. “Where did…?”
Return of the Warrior Page 6